


Snake-eyed with a Sly Smile

by vampirecult



Category: The House with a Clock in its Walls (2018)
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, Magic, No Dialogue, Period-Typical Homophobia, Witches, Wizards, but only mentioned, he's fun and sweet and i would die for him, i just rly wanted to do a little study of jonathan since we dont get to know a lot thru the film, i should honestly just read the book shdhf, this is pretty self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 17:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16623188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampirecult/pseuds/vampirecult
Summary: Jonathan Barnavelt's life and relationships through the eyes of an observer.(title taken from the song black mambo by glass animals)





	Snake-eyed with a Sly Smile

**Author's Note:**

> i really enjoyed this movie and the characters and the entire aesthetic of it, and though i have yet to read the book, i wanted to indulge and do a little study of jonathan based on what we see in the film. i hope its enjoyable!

Jonathan Barnavelt.

More than a parlor magician.

No, he was much deeper than that. He’d left that identity in his past; just like everything else.

The first time Jonathan Barnavelt felt truly alone was also the first time he ever ran away from home. Perhaps he didn’t know it then, but this would also be the last.

Later, Jonathan would say his choice was clear. Obvious. _Easy_ , even. But really? None of it was easy. Leaving home despite the tension between him and his father wasn’t a simple affair. Leaving his sister cut him deeper than he’d willingly admit. Afterwards, he’d pushed the feelings of guilt and remorse so far down that denial just became easier than confronting what went unsettled in his past. He knew why this was, of course, but he wouldn’t admit that either.

An annoying sense of pride had been built into Jonathan’s psyche since the day he learned how to understand the world around him. He wanted to become the best at everything he was exposed to and was the bane of his classmates’ lives—both because of his unending determination to be better, but also because of his odd personality. Like his nephew, he was the black sheep of the school. Discovering magic only elevated his social exclusion. Not that he minded, of course. Being a warlock had become his entire world and followed him well into his final years of primary school, much to the disdain of his parents, who held firm in the idea he would get over “the magic phase” once he was sent to university.

It was a pipe dream for them, though. Once Jonathan could fluently control magic, it gave him the intoxicating feeling of being _more_ than what he was. _The ultimate gift_. Something that could set him apart, put him at the top of the game. Not that this was his only motivation; he was human, after all. Knowing there was a whole other world he still had so much to learn about fueled the fire of curiosity in him. The pursuit of knowledge burns in every person and he was no exception.

At the height of Jonathan’s pursuit, there came Isaac. Ah yes, Isaac Izard, the illustrious performer and _excellent_ magician. He swooped in seemingly out of nowhere, and Jonathan fell right into his pretty slender hands. They were fast friends. Isaac showed him how he could make a living out of his skill, and they agreed to become business partners. Jonathan learned more from Isaac than he could have ever discovered on his own reading dusty books in library archives. He taught him fancy tricks to put on a good show, as well as functional spells and ways for warlocks to defend themselves in different kinds of combat (should the need ever arise). Jonathan was, to say the least, enchanted.

This enchantment quickly turned into infatuation. Dangerous on Jonathan’s part, given the attitude the public held for relations between men at the time, but he’d always been an outcast anyway. He was accustomed to feeling apart from the herd.

Maybe that’s why he let it happen the way he did. He let himself fall into it, ebb and flow into the very fabric of Isaac as a person. Jonathan had known from adolescence that he preferred men, but never had it been more pronounced or relevant than after he’d met Isaac. The man was beautiful, skilled, charismatic and friendly. He was a showman, yes, but he was hardly characterized like the others in his field. He wasn’t a fraud. He wanted to use his status as a warlock to bring joy to the public under the guise of a magician. Why not? It brought in money, and it allowed them both to use their skill safely in front of non-magics. Perhaps the allure of the meticulous construction Isaac built around himself was what drew Jonathan in, but there was also the fact that Isaac had welcomed him with such warm, open arms. He gave Jonathan companionship in his time of need and opened his world up as if he were unfolding a map.

His admiration could only be called that for so long. It was clear after the first five months or so that Jonathan held more than platonic affections for his friend, no matter how cleverly he tried to disguise it. He was a good actor, but he was no match for Isaac.

Isaac wasn’t a dim man. He prided himself on his ability to read other people _very_ well. _Always the observationist_ , his father would tell him. It was true. Isaac loved learning about others, despite never being very outgoing in his youth. Show business changed that. He became direct, motivated, still as observatory as ever but more applied in his methods.

That’s why he confronted Jonathan directly. He was a gentle soul, but strong willed as well. He didn’t let things hang in the air and go unspoken.

That night was one Jonathan wouldn’t forget for a long time coming. It marked a shift in his relationship with Isaac. They had gone from friends and business partners to… something a little different.

It was the first time he’d kissed another man.

Mercy, did he wish he could erase those memories now.

He looked back on it with the knowledge he had now as something solemn, possibly even a little wicked. Not because he felt wrong for it. No, he was comfortable in his attraction to men. With Isaac, though... it wasn’t what he expected, for lack of better phrasing.

He was euphoric at first, don’t get him wrong. Isaac was kind and gentlemanly as usual, told Jonathan he returned his affections. _Want to try it out,_ he’d said as he rested a soft, familiar hand on Jonathan’s cheek. _I care about you deeply._

They’d never talked about their preferences before. Jonathan had only ever seen him conversate with women when they attended bars and evening halls. This was part of the reason why he hadn’t confessed to Isaac himself. When his friend had approached him about it so placatingly it had been a relief, but before he was sure Isaac would cut him off if he found out.

That attitude had been changed the first time he and Isaac slept together. Isaac wouldn’t have done something so intimate if he wasn’t really attracted to him, right? His paranoia faded soon after that. Things began to feel normal again, if only in a different light. They had banter, did performances, emptied full bottles of wine in the evening as usual. Isaac was loving, kissed Jonathan with meaning, and made him feel comfortable. It seemed like bliss.

They met Mrs. Zimmerman when they moved into the house at the end of the street. She was witty and sarcastic from the beginning, which entertained Isaac and annoyed Jonathan. ‘Annoyed’ being a loose word, considering the banter between the two was like watching an intense game of ping-pong that didn’t end until someone else intervened. Even then, silent glares and sneers would be exchanged. Zimmerman’s sharp intellect and expert use of magic greatly matched Jonathan’s own wild passion and curiosity for what he hadn’t yet discovered. They grew close despite the frequent spats between them.

After a while of this strange domesticity, there came a storm. One that wouldn’t lift itself from the household for years to come. It crawled like a fog that only thickened with time, infected all who entered its hearth, and took the warmth of family from the old house almost permanently.

Jonathan felt sick thinking about it. Felt even worse when Isaac came home from war, changed inside and out carrying the hefty weight of PTSD on his back. Jonathan did his best to help him when he had nightmares, got him through the strains of having a traumatized mind. Isaac refused to see a doctor when Mrs. Zimmerman brought the option up, which only furthered the growing distance Isaac was putting between himself and the other two. He grew wild, stayed up into the late hours of the night and well into the morning pored over books neither Jonathan nor Zimmerman could understand. He left the house more often, causing his friends to worry even more. They barely talked anymore but in passing. Isaac gradually became colder, less animated. Jonathan knew war changed people. That much he could understand. But this wasn’t like anything he’d seen before—not even with his own father who had been through war himself, seen the same brutality and corruption it involved.

He knew it was beyond his control when Isaac flinched at his touch. He didn’t respond otherwise; ignored him physically and emotionally. For Jonathan, it was like having the life squeezed out of him slowly, dirty water through an old cleaning rag. His insides twisted with confusion and self-hatred for months. He couldn’t talk about it to anyone—he had no one to go to. Not even Mrs. Zimmerman, though he was sure despite their differences she’d be willing to listen to his troubles. Isaac and he returned to the status of friends. Strained, but still friends. They still lived together. Jonathan managed.

Until Isaac met Selena. Another witch, but her magic wasn’t like theirs. It bled a dark aura, seductive and wickedly enthralling like most dark magic was. Isaac spoke with fervor around her, was openly intimate with her, and talked about nothing but her when she wasn’t around. Times where she wasn’t present were rare, though. Jonathan felt jealousy consume him quickly, felt it turn into envy at some point. Like he wanted to _be_ Selena. He wanted to be someone that made Isaac feel passionate. More passionate and energetic than he’d been in a year. He was almost like his old self, but not quite. Jonathan could see that much. He wasn’t warm anymore. Wasn’t kind or receiving of others. Where old Isaac would pat you on the back and ask how your day went, this new Isaac would do no more than shoot you a look, if he even deigned to acknowledge you in the first place. His showman persona was lost, and he retreated into a world Jonathan didn’t want to know about.

His admiration for the man ebbed tremendously. Only the bare strings of familiar attachment remained.

How blind had he been to have believed Isaac? That he cared for and wanted to be around Jonathan romantically? Maybe he did at one point, but soon it was clear Jonathan had been nothing more than a fling. A lifestyle to try out. The war had separated them, and Selena had broken them apart permanently.

Jonathan blamed himself when Isaac died. He’d tried to look out for him in spite of all the hurt he’d caused, but it wasn’t enough. He’d taken Selena with him, used her in whatever ungodly ritual they had planned to go through together, but he’d also taken a piece of Jonathan. He clutched Isaac’s body to his own, sat there until he felt the warmth leave. Mrs. Zimmerman could only kneel beside him, a motherly hand laid on Jonathan’s shoulder. She’d been through a tragedy of her own. At least to some extent, she could help clean the aftermath away, both in the house and in Jonathan.

He was grateful for her. She was all he had left, as far as he knew.

The ticking started that night. They’d barely laid Isaac in the ground when already his ghost began to haunt the house. As dark fell over the property, so did it on Jonathan. It kept him awake every night, exhausted him, defeated his spirit day by day. Dealing with his grief was impossible in the face of this new, continuous problem. Mrs. Zimmerman shared the burden as much as possible, knowing what Isaac had created was likely a creation of mass destruction, unquestionably bound with wicked magic given his obsession with it before his untimely death. It dwelled inside the walls of the house almost as much as it filled the walls of their skulls. The search for the clock soon became their life’s quest. It preoccupied them completely, gave them something to strive for. If it also served to distract them from their own emotional turmoil and absence of closure, they didn’t mention it. Things felt like they were returning to a state of partial normality, however fragile it was.

So, a child was inopportune to say the least.

Upon discovering Jonathan had a nephew, they were both a little surprised. Possibly a smidge excited. Then they read the news of Jonathan’s sister’s passing. Once again, Jonathan felt the icy claws of loss crawl up his spine. He hadn’t spoken to his sister in years, not to mention the rest of his family. There was something that felt undeserving when he welcomed her son into his home. Like he was being given a privilege that wasn’t afforded to someone who’d done what he had. He was next of kin, so it was only right for him to take Lewis in and treat him with love and care. After all, he’d lost something too. Both of his parents were taken without warning, trees ripped up from the ground during a heavy storm. And there he was left between their roots, the world moving on while he remained stuck in place.

Death does that to a person. Both Jonathan and Mrs. Zimmerman could empathize with the feeling.

Jonathan recalled their first experiences with Lewis. He had come in and changed so much in so little time. It was positively astounding the number of things children can accomplish if given the opportunity. Through the final discovery of the clock and the subsequent erecting of Isaac’s body, Lewis was always at a point of innovation and quick thinking. Without him, neither he or Zimmerman would have been able to overcome the wrath Isaac almost brought down upon the world. One might not believe it given Lewis’s appearance; just a small, bookish boy who loved adventure and reading and creating things. Jonathan had been the same though, and he was still here through all the struggles of his past.

For the first time in years, a swell of pride began to grow in his chest.

They were truly a right trio of misfits—a mismatched group of black swans, a collection of histories brought together by magic and the common need to satiate their curiosities.

Jonathan was warm again. He wanted to wake up and do things, to start learning again. The fire that Isaac had both fed and snuffed so easily was now sustained by the family he’d found.


End file.
